Sunday, January 15, 2012

I love being married. Have I mentioned that?
Well, I guess I should rephrase that, I love my husband. It just feels so comfortable. If you told me a few years ago that I'd be married now, I'd probably call you an idiot (and a lair). I always saw marriage as being tied down, being tamed, giving up your independence and giving up yourself. It was just a piece of paper that doomed you to unhappiness, nasty lawyer fees, and scarred.

But it's not, infact, it's comfortable. And I'm not sure if that word captures it correctly. I always thought of brides as woo girls. They squee, wave their hands around, get pedicures, be the very escence of the overly feminine, catty, intellectually challanged women I hate. I have no idea why I ever had that concept of it, it just seems like they want to shove it down everyone elses throats. Hey, you got hitched, good for you. But I'm not going to congratulate you with my voice 5 octives higher than normal while my eyes are bugging out of my head.

And here I am, married. The most gorgeous wedding ring on my hand and a man in my phone labeled as 'hubby'. Who is also, the most gorgeous man on earth. I admire him and I think the sun shines out of his ass. He's safe, he's warm, he's sexy, he's smart, he doesn't judge me (or if he does, he does so silently), and he completely ignores the hot mess I am.

Alright, enough of the love stuff.

We adopted a cat. He's 8 months old and his name is Jax. He loves to cuddle and he snores. It's been a week and Tank and Jax are already spooning.